Stasis Lock
by Shimegami
Summary: As the gulf between the rich and the poor grows wider and dissent is spreading, Cybertron is slowing moving towards civil war. As long-dead factions rise up from the ashes, all must learn to fight, or perish... AU reimagining, Starscream-centric
1. Author NotesGlossary

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Okay, for all you Transformer purists, be warned - **this does not take place in any of the current continuities**. That's right, I'm branching out and creating my own universe! It will resemble most a mix between G1 and the 2007-movieverse, but it is its own separate little world. So things will happen here that might not necessarily happen in canon universes.

A rundown of several things and terms specific to my verse:

**Sparklings** - Yes, the Transformers "grow up" in a slightly organic way. This is _not_ a natural occurrence - the robots developed it and did it themselves, they weren't created with sparklings in mind. The reasons for this are explained in the first chapter, but just to say it here - they exist. They are usually raised in group facilities specific to their intended design, no matter how they were created. Sparklings have a limited protoform-type body, with minimal to no armor and slight hints at what they were designed for, but nothing more than that - ie. Seeker sparklings have wings, but cannot fly or assume an alt mode or anything with them. It's just a way to show what the sparkling was programmed to be. This is, of course, not always set in stone - any mech can choose to reformat themselves if they feel their spark isn't suited to their original programming, but most do not. Seekers are the only exception to this, as they are created specially. Most sparklings grow through several protoform refits before they fully mature, at which they are then refitted with their full adult form.

**Mechs vs. Femmes** - There isn't much of a difference between the two. In fact, the only difference is that most femmes have a spark that is preset towards emotion, whereas mech sparks are more logical, in a general sense. Otherwise the sparks are essentially identical - a mech can sparkbond and create with another mech just like a femme, and a femme with a femme, and a femme with a mech. A spark is a spark is a spark, etc. However, since femmes are more emotional in general, they tend to care more and have a greater drive for creating than mechs, so mech/femme is still the most common pairing. Femmes have curvier body shapes and are smaller in general, to appear less threatening in their general as their primary jobs are caregivers, medics, and teachers. There are always exceptions to this rule - the gender separation is not as severe as most organic races, and most femmes are content with their roles. No nasty gender wars like humans. :p Femmes are slightly more common - at least during the beginning of the story - but are still the minority - it's about a 60/40 ratio.

**Factions** - The Autobot/Decepticon split will occur, but will take a bit to get there. As of now, a mech's worth is generally determined by their function and status. This has led to the split between the rich and the poor, which will eventually cause the uprising into the war. Right now, most Cybertronians fit into three sections - the rich elite, the poor and other ordinary civilians, and the military models. The elite consider the working class beneath their notice, the working class thinks the elite as tyrants feeding off them, and both groups look down on the military models, who are considered as little more than drones by the elite and are envied by the poor for not having to work for their credits and rations. Any military model such as a Seeker trying to pursue a normal life is usually met with disdain and prejudice.

**Seekers** - The first purely military and pure flying mechs that the Cybertronians created. All Seekers are created for warfare, though little of them are actively in the military during times of peace. While they can live their lives like other mechs during peacetime, all are given military training and are forced to fight, should Cybertron be invaded. Since loyalty and defense of Cybertron is programmed into them, most do not mind this, though there have a been a few peace-orientated Seekers over the years. Since fighting is so ingrained into them, most have very confrontational personalities and can be hard to get along with, since arguing is their most popular form of letting off steam, though they will rarely actually ever physically fight in disagreement. Since their basic programming to make them fliers had to be programmed from the base up from mechs who did not fly, they took many years to become fully functional, and to this day many of them still have glitches and personality conflicts arising from the less than perfect coding. The flying part worked, however, and they are unmatched in flight. Due to their unstable personalities, Seekers are the only mechs who are not allowed to reformat themselves, since flight is so ingrained into them, and trying to erase that and turn them into a different mech usually causes their minds to collapse fully, so dependent are they on their flying mindset. They are also not allowed to create by themselves, and are only ever produced in the facility that makes them. Lately, these restrictions have been causing some unrest among them.

**Creation** - There are two ways a Cybertronian can be born - produced in a facility with the Allspark or by combining two spark's energies with the intention to create a new one. The most famous production facility is Vector Sigma in Iacon, which houses the actual Allspark and channels its energies across the planet to any other production facilities that are active. There is a set amount of Allspark-created each year, and no more are made unless under special circumstances. However, sparkbonding can create as many sparks as needed, as long as the two participating have the credits to pay for the protoform to be built. Because of this and the energy drained during such a process, creating is usually reserved for those who have the free time and credits to spare. Though creating and raising a sparkling on its own is forbidden by the government, it is common practice in places where the government is weak or easily bribed, such as slums. In Iacon and other upper echelon cities, however, it is unheard of.

**Other fliers** - Since the flying programming has been perfected, any mech can be upgraded into a flying form if they so choose, and if they have the credits to do so. They are not as good of fliers as the Seekers, so most reformatted fliers choose to be explorers or transporters, and other such jobs where fancy flying is not required. Sparklings can also be created be with this programming, and usually adapt to it better, so the difference in flying skill between a reformatted flier and a sparked flier is usually quite obvious. Some sparked fliers can even match Seeker skill, though they lack the military programming and the special reflexes Seeker are built with.

**Quintessions** - Yes, they created the Transformers in this universe, and were chased away when their creations gained sentience and rebelled. This happened quite a long time ago, and is long since forgotten by all of Cybertron. Some old religious texts mention how the Cybtertronians "grasped their freedom from the gods and so gained the knowledge of creation" as a metaphor, but most just figure it to be a metaphor for learning how to create between two sparks instead of the Allspark. The Quintessions created the Allspark, but even they have little idea of most of its mysteries. Long forgotten, the mythology of Primus developed in their stead.

There we go, that should be enough for right now, the rest should come to light during the story. Especially since I'm pulling most of this out of my ass, haha. The base universe is not too different from most of the canon universes, though the story may be drastically different in places. Also, some characters might have slight changes in order to adapt with their new world, but they will not be blatantly out of character.

Thanks, and happy reading!

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	2. Prelude To A Legend

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All right, let's get this fic on the road!

**Warnings**: This story will eventually contain slash and perhaps descriptions of non-sticky robot intimacy. Nothing too graphic. If that offends you, please depart via the emergency exit located on the "Back" button on your browser toolbar. Serious AU here!

**Disclaimer**: I no own Transformers, though I do like occasionally playing God with the toys.

**General AN**: This story will obviously be rather Seeker and Starscream-orientated. I can't help it, I always want to play with Screamer's head. :

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**Chapter One**

_Prelude To A Legend_

Stars twinkled faintly in the night sky of Cybertron, mirrored and almost drowned out by the lights of the sprawling metropolis of Iacon beneath them. In some places they _were _blotted out, by arching space bridges or to be briefly extinguished by the transports and other metal objects soaring across the sky, both inside the atmosphere and above it. Cybertron was claimed to be in a golden age, with peace reigning and space exploration at its highest. They had already completed colonized the moons, and were slowly pushing past the boundaries of their star system, a feat that had not been achieved since the Great War. There was even talk of the explorer teams bringing back word of colonies in far-away systems - hints of how far they had once gone before the planet had collapsed into civil war. Soon, they said, Cybertron would be a true empire, extending across the galaxy with peaceful prosperity.

Starfall arranged her faceplates into a sneer as she stared out the window over the expanse of Iacon. Golden age, indeed. Only the nobility and the Council thought that way, safely ensconced in their towers away from the rest of Cybertron. They only knew of the prosperity of Iacon. They assumed the entire planet mirrored this bustling city. How wrong they were.

She snorted, turning away from the window and returning to her console. As Air Commander, she had flown many places over Cybertron, and she knew the truth they didn't. The elite of Cybertron gravitated to Iacon, its Academy was the best on the planet, and the life-giving Allspark was housed here as well. You did not make it to Iacon if you weren't outstanding, and so it had achieved the status of being a paradise. In return, the rest of Cybertron was slowly but surely turning into the very Pits.

But that was not her concern.

She was the Air Commander, and was ensured that so long as the military held power, she'd certainly never see anything else than prosperity. And she certainly hadn't achieved her position by being compassionate. The mechs in the various slums across the planet had their own hand in creating the current situation - not just the oblivious nobility were to blame.

Of course, neither side would admit this. Ah, such was pride. She sneered again as she jabbed clawed fingers over the console interface, bringing up what she was last working on.

She made a disgusted grinding noise at the instructions. More sparklings for this stellar cycle? At least they'd given her free reign _this_ time over what kind of Seekers to make, the last batch of younglings had been painfully descript over everything, including their personalities. Apparently this batch they had taken her rant to spark - she was a fragging Air Commander, not a programmer, and the personality could only be influenced so much by the CPU. Sparks could not be controlled like that. Thankfully, only physical requirements were listed this time, but only for certain ones. The rest were free-reign - they just wanted more Seekers, never mind whatever she did with them.

It was still irritating, however, because now she'd have to train more sparklings. Again. Couldn't they just find some other poor Seeker clods to train the little petrorats? She was Air Commander! Not some programmer, not some mystical spark-controller, and she was certainly _not_ a sparkling watcher.

Starfall was the first femme Seeker, and currently the only one she knew of. Apparently the rusted bolt-buckets of the Council thought this meant she was better for nothing than dangling sparklings off her wings. Absurd. The only reason she _was_ a femme was because her spark was a femme's in only its energy signature - about the only emotion she was capable of in her processors was anger. It was because of this that she survived her own sparking - the emotional nature of femme sparks and the glitched-to-the-Pits personality coding of Seekers did not mix, and most femme sparks faded away in kliks of being placed in a Seeker protoform, and those that stayed usually ended up frying their CPUs and going mad within a few orns. The coding was just too unstable to handle an emotional personality on top of it all.

She was not a normal femme, caring only about others. No, she was a Seeker and a fighter to the very spark, and she had clawed her way through the ranks and the prejudices of the mechs to rise to Air Commander. She had attained her position through sheer determination and skill, and she wasn't about to let it go anytime soon. Though she felt she might go the way of the other femme Seekers and just short her own personality chips out if the Council kept ordering new Seeker sparklings. Why oh why was raising the little energon-parasites part of the Air Commander's job?

Giving a mechanical growl that almost sounded like a cornered turbofox, Starfall continued scanning the requirements. Fifty this cycle. Clearly they did want her to go insane.

She began tapping out rapid instructions, pulling up the program that compiled her wishes into suitable protoform mapouts. She filled out every free spot with just generic instructions - enough to make a Seeker, and the technicians in Vector Sigma could do whatever the slag they wanted with them after that. It was the only small freedom she could afford to give her race.

For all they possessed sparks and working CPUs the equal of any other mech, Seekers were still little more than drones to the nobility. The arrogance of creating an entire new race to their species had not faded, instead passed down from generation to generation, and so Seekers were still not afforded the basic liberties every other mech on Cybertron enjoyed. Slag, they couldn't even choose what they wanted to be - the programming was too unstable to reformat, any Seeker who tried would go insane at the loss of flight. And, after all, the coding worked - Seekers were unmatched in flight. Who cared if they had personality glitches galore and most were a step from insanity? No Seeker had gone insane to the point of non-functionality in vorns. So long as they could fly and shoot the right targets, the Council did not care how crazy they were. They couldn't even create by themselves - every Seeker had been paid and ordered for by the Council, and given life by the Allspark. None would ever create such life themselves, unlike the countless groundling mechs. They were forbidden to do so at all.

She hissed, jabbing her claws downwards as she started building one of the more specific sparklings. Slag the Council and their outdated ways. She could not go against them, it would just ruin her, but the desire to go shove their heads up their own exhaust pipes was strong. How dare they treat them as inferior, when they were held up to the public as the pride of Cybertron!? _Look_, the government holos said, _Look at what we created. We can evolve ourselves, no outside help by nature required. We made the Seekers, imagine what we can do next. No need for evolution to dawdle around and hope natural selection works, we can fill any niche we need to, all by ourselves. We can make anything!_

_Yes, we can make anything. Just ignore the glitches, the creations fulfill their primary functions. It doesn't matter if Gatewind can't leave his quarters unless he's rearranged his desk five times and paced in front of the door exactly seventeen times, he can still fly. It doesn't matter if Updraft cackles hysterically every time he has a weapon powered up, he still shoots the right targets!_ Starfall continued hissing to herself as she quickly plowed through the sparkling requests, nearly scratching the input display in her anger.

Last sparkling request. She glanced at the requirements, then paused as the instructions registered, faceplates grinding against each other as her expression changed. This one had only one requirement - high processor power. In fact, the highest possible. Such requests were usually confined to those protoforms who would be scientists or historians. All Seekers had more processor power than the average groundling, sure, but at least half of it was dedicated solely to running the countless flight subroutines that were unique to her kind. Not much was left over, and so it evened out - most were no smarter than any other normal mech, with personal little variations here and there. She was one of the few who was lucky enough that her routines took a more minimal amount of memory than others. The more instinctive a flier a spark was, the less memory was wasted on flying, so she was intelligent.

But here...the Council were deliberately asking for a Seeker above the norm. Another experiment? What, did they hope for a Seeker scientist or something? The idea had merit, so she could see why they had ordered it, but it still made her roll her optics. The chances that the Seeker would end up with a glitch that affected rational thought were very high, and no such Seeker would ever make a good intellectual.

_Oh well, just another glitch to train. Once he's into his adult frame, whatever happens to him won't be my problem. But still..._ She grinned rather nastily as she tapped in a few more specifications of her own choosing. The best of everything she requested on this one protoform. The most processor power that could be ordered, and all the strategy and logic programming to use it. And a few extra surprised. Slag, if she was lucky, the little glitch would be smart enough to think for himself and would be one step closer to the equal footing the Seekers were supposed to have but never saw. And even if he was never more than a patrol drone, at least the potential was there. Just as an extra little kick in the aft for the Council.

With a satisfied clicking noise, she sent the list on to Vector Sigma so the protoforms would be built and given life.

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No, Starfall isn't important to the plot. She's just a one-dimensional femme created to be the grumpy Air Commander until Screamer grows up. XD I'm rather averse to making original characters, especially ones that are integral to plot, so Starfall is only here to advance the plot. :p

So what did everyone think? Reviews are appreciated, even if to only tell me I'm smoking something. Ah, who cares, I liked writing this.

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	3. A Beginning In The Middle

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**Warnings**: None for this chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I no own Transformers, though I do like occasionally playing God with the toys.

**General AN**: I promise I'm going somewhere with this. XD;; Ah, notes for this time...

**General Transformer appearance**: It's a mish-mash between a lot of continuities, though the base does rely on the 2007-movieverse style mostly, because I find them the most visually appealing. Not to mention, they moved and came together in a way I imagine giant sentient robots would. However, Starscream's design kind of slightly horrified me, so Seekers are different. I do like the digitigrade style of walking, so that stays, but they have bigger feet. :p Most of them walk with their legs completely straight, so the difference is hard to tell at first, but becomes obvious when they have to run or otherwise move without thinking. Also, claws, because yeah. I like them. Their wings generally stick out from their back, and they can move them freely. Also, G1 colors all the way!

Also making up a few terms here - I noticed the Transformer continuities all have the time measurements down, but absolutely none on distance. Since I doubt they use either the standard or metric system of measurement, I'm taking a few liberties here. :p

**Height/distance measurements**:  
_Veer_ - Around 15 Earth feet/3 Earth meters. Most common point of reference, since it is used to measure mech height mainly, as most are at least one veer tall.  
_Min_ - About 10 inches. It's the smallest increment of measurement for most Cybertronians, as usually only scientists or medics use anything smaller.  
_Pravec_ - About 2 Earth miles. Standard distance measurement.

**Time measurements**:

_Klik_ - 1.66 minutes.  
_Breem_ - 8.3 minutes. Equal to 5 kliks.  
_Cycle_ - 166 minutes, equal to 20 breems.  
_Joor_ - 415 minutes, equal to 50 breems and 2.5 cycles.  
_Orn_ - Cybertronian day. Lasts 3 joors, roughly 20 hours and 45 minutes.  
_Stellar Cycle_ - Cybertronian year. Lasts about 400 orns.  
_Vorn_ - 20 stellar cycles.

Time measurements are mostly canon, with me making up lengths if they didn't have a set time. :p Now, onto the story!

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**Chapter Two**

_A Beginning In The Middle  
_

The halls of Niacon Base were huge, walls of gray metal soaring above to meet the ceilings at over five veers in some places. It was a fairly new building, compared to Iacon's other cultural points such as the Academy or the High Tower - built when flight had finally been achieved for their race. Every aspect of the building was designed and geared towards fliers and their needs - huge hallways and quarters, thousands of windows, and opening out into Cybertron at almost every opportunity. The ceilings were tall for several reasons - to reduce flier claustrophobia, to accommodate some of the larger transport fliers whose heads could scrape that ceiling, and because most had the mentality of "why walk when you could fly?". The heights clearance was enough for most to zoom overhead if they did not feel like walking.

Most Seekers chose to live here, even if they weren't actively enrolled in the military, simply because it was easier. Everyone flew here, there were no sneers for having wings in these halls, and the spacious construction did not give the imminent feeling of the walls collapsing on you that plagued most fliers as soon as they stepped into a groundling-based building.

Starfall was no exception to the claustrophobia, and she gave a slight shudder in disgust at the thought. Why, some mechs even lived underground. _Underground_. With metal over their heads at all times, never seeing open sky, and the threat of being buried in rubble ever present. How could any self-respecting mech do that?

She was just on her way to leave and oversee the new sparklings development - the little fraggers grew so fast, soon they'd have their first protoform refit and be under her control - when a deep rumbling voice stopped her.

"Starfall. A klik of your time, please." She turned to face her addresser.

Vericus Prime was a tall mech, standing even a head or two above the Seekers. He was very old, though this only showed in small moments, when he did not move as fast as he once could, for he kept himself in excellent repair, green and blue paintjob gleaming just as brightly as it had when it had been applied. He was a quiet, serious mech, with solid judgement, and the only one on the Council Starfall thought deserved his position. Primes were chosen by the Matrix, so they usually always did deserve the title, but the government had so many silly checks and balances of power these days, not even the Prime could do much unless he had the full agreement of the Council. Considering she couldn't even remember the last time that those old buckets had agreed on something, she often wished that Vericus would just kick them out of their lofty seats and run Cybertron on his own. He'd be far better than the current system.

"Yes, Prime?" She titled her head expectantly. He gestured with his hand.

"Walk with me." He began striding down the halls, heading for less-populated areas as she fell into step beside him. He was silent for a moment, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked down, contemplating his words. She was content to wait. Finally, he looked up, faceplates set in a smile.

"Were you on your way to examine the newest Seekers?"

She nodded. "Yes...their protoforms will be ready to be refitted for their training soon, so I thought to drop by and see their progress so far. Since they will be under my care soon, it's best to start planning for them early."

Vericus seemed amused. "Planning for them...or yourself?" At her startled glance, he chuckled. "It's not exactly a secret that you do not care for this part of your job, Commander."

Starfall spoke hesitantly, unsure of how to proceed. "I...am a warrior, sir. I am not...well-equipped to handle young protoforms, despite my spark."

"Yes, you always have been that way...do not worry about it. So long as you train them with the quality of the previous Seekers you've shown the world, there is no problem. Even if you don't like the job, you still do it to the best of your ability. That speaks well of you." He went back to silent contemplation for a moment, and Starfall was content to join him in it. She was not sure where he was going with this.

After a moment, he looked up again. "You are familiar with why we even have sparklings in the first place, correct?"

She paused, confused at the change of subjects. "Yes...a spark does not mature, so it can be placed inside a fully-functional adult just as well as a sparkling protoform...however, creating a full personality is too difficult. Trying to program a full adult leaves the resulting mech too flat...they're perfectly functional, but end up being one-dimensional and flat, unable to change. It's just too difficult to code all the nuances of a full personality from scratch...so we created sparklings, who use self-learning algorithms and life experiences to fill in the holes that the coding can not."

He nodded again. "Yes...we began with creating ourselves to be whole from the beginning, but we can not emulate a true personality like that. Mechs created that way are often fit for only the job they are created for, and can not function in society as well, because they are limited by their programming. They can learn, of course, they're mechs just like us, but it takes them far longer. In times of war, it is practical, for we can create and replace soldiers who have no need to be raised and trained, but for times of peace...there is no reason to do so."

The tall mech suddenly stopped, looking down at the ground. Starfall stumbled forward a bit at the abrupt halt, turning to face him. The pale silver visage was truned down, faceplates arranged in a frown.

"And yet, we began so anyways. We ourselves created the sparklings to give ourselves more freedom and personal choice, but we did not begin that way. No one knows our exact origin either...it seems like we really did spring up from the hand of Primus himself."

Starfall remained quiet - while the idea of some all-powerful being creating them out of nothing had always sat as absurd with her, there was nothing else to prove from where they came. No evolution like those tiny organic microbes the scientists were enraptured with...for as long as Cybertronian history could remember, they had always been this way. Certainly they had learned much, had advanced the sciences and technologies far beyond what they originally had, but it had always seemed like they had just popped up out of the ground one day, like a petrorat colony from its burrows. It was disconcerting, to say the least, but she failed to see the importance.

"And here we are again." He spoke suddenly, drawing her attention. "Again, we have evolved ourselves, to master flight. To give ourselves more freedom. And yet, we can't even seem to give the fliers the freedom they gave us. Seekers have less privileges than known criminals."

She looked down. Vericus knew of the building dissent, among both the Seekers and those who lived in the slums, and who were slowly becoming more and more of the population. New Seekers were always being made lately, it seemed, and the slums grew a little larger each day as more and more mechs failed to afford the cost of living in the proper cities.

He began walking forward again, and she followed. "Cybertron is slowly collapsing under itself. The upper levels are eating away the bottom ones until there will be none left to support them, and they will fall. I can do nothing about it, for the Council fails to see the problem. Civil war is coming, perhaps one large enough to match even the Great War."

Starfall gave a small shudder. That war, so many thousands of vorns ago, had wiped out much of their population. Two factions had arisen, and they had battled fiercely against each other until almost everything was lost. So much, in fact, that they didn't even know the names of the factions or why they were fighting, just scattered war stories. Their history nearly stopped there - and in fact, was why so little was known about the past before the War. Almost all records had been destroyed.

"If war comes, however, doesn't that mean that you'll gain full control? All executive power is defaulted to the Prime during a declared war, is it not? You could fix the problems then..."

She trailed off as he shook his head, optics dimming. "No...I was a Prime chosen for peace, not war. Failed most all of the battle strategy classes in the Academy, actually. I would not be able to win any battles, and battles would be needed. And I am old...the Matrix calls me to rejoin with Primus a little stronger each orn. No matter how well I keep my body in repair, my spark itself is weary."

His optics flickered off fully in a gesture of defeat. Starfall shifted nervously. She did not like seeing such a strong figure in a moment of weakness. It did not sit will in her CPU. Finally, he looked back up at her, smile a little sad.

"The reason I came to you today, Starfall, was because I have a request...no, a favor to ask of you. Not as Prime, but as a mech who was once known as just Verity. War is coming, Starfall, and you must prepare for it. Undoubtedly the Seekers will be deployed to go against their own kind, something which should never happen, but it will. The time has come for you to train all under your command to the fullest. Prove yourself, Starfall, and prove your fellow fliers in battle."

Processors spinning, she merely stared at the other mech, optics flickering in surprise. "P-Prove ourselves? Why?"

A small smile. "It is selfish, but...I've always admired the Seekers. If war is coming, I want at least one good thing to come out of it. Prove yourselves, and gain the freedom you deserve. It saddens my spark each day to see such proud beings treated little better than sparkless drones. Perhaps, no matter how this next war ravages Cybertron...perhaps you will finally gain the freedom you deserve. The freedom you deserve as Cybertron's greatest achievement and pride. Now, I won't keep you any longer. Please, go return to your duties and have a nice orn, Commander."

With that, the green and blue mech turned, walking back down the hall from where they came, leaving Starfall lost in thought.

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Next chapter up soon.

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	4. In Small Packages

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**Warnings**: None for this chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I no own Transformers, though I do like occasionally playing God with the toys.

**General AN**: Whee, a certain sparkling has arrived! Yay! Now then...I figure I'll put some explanations up in each chapter when the last chapter might have opened up a few questions. Hopefully I'll pre-empt any questions this way, so no one is left wondering confused why I just wrote something. Okay, two issues to touch on:

**Old age and death on Cybertron**: Cybertronian bodies do not wear out. They can be killed, but so long as the spark remains, a mech can be rebuilt however many times over if parts break and such. Therefore, a Cybertronian's lifespan is entirely dependent on their will to live. One million years or ten million, it does not matter. Therefore, a Cybertronian has an "indefinite" lifespan. If they feel no need to continue living - satisfied with life, or just depressed, or any other reason, they merely let their sparks fade away to join the Matrix. Therefore, a lifespan is dependent entirely on each mech. Sure, a Cybertronian can be immortal if they wanted, but living for such a long time gets boring after a while, hence the fact that they can fade away if they no longer feel the will to live. This, besides the killing, is the only population control they have.

**Starfall**: Some of you may have noticed she was rather hateful in the first chapter, and was all polite in the second. Yes, she's still hateful, she just doesn't bother to show it most of the time. She's angry and bitter, but feels no need to let it out at the world. Also, the conversation confused her, and Vericus is one of the few she respects, so she is polite. Consistent!characterization is consistent.

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**Chapter Three**

_In Small Packages  
_

The sparkling did not have a designation yet, those were only assigned during the adult refitting. However, he needed something to call himself, even if only in his thoughts. Having his batch number called out across the room only felt degrading.

He curled up on his recharge booth with a click to himself, thinking. What was there that was different about himself? That's how names were decided. Their first protoform refit was tomorrow, and then they would all move to Niacon Base, to be trained as Seekers. So he needed a name before then, so he would know who he was, even if only to himself.

His hands afforded no answer. They were the same silvery-gray as the rest of his body, and all the other protoforms. Colors, again, only came with an adult. In fact, the only way to tell them all apart was the batch numbers painted onto their wings.

His was fifty, the last of the batch. Already some of the other sparklings had taken to teasing him about that, something about the batch-enders being the smallest and slowest, always. There was no basis for this in all the databases he was allowed to connect to, so he figured it was a simple glitch they had picked up from adult mechs. Adults were all strange, and, to the sparkling's mind, all in need of a good defragging.

Obviously, he could not decide a name based on a physical appearance, since it was not unique. That left the workings of his processors. What did he know about himself so far?

So far, only logic. His memory banks were mostly empty, waiting for life experiences to fill them so his personality could be fully developed. They all had rudimentary personality programming - a foundation, as it were. The coding would fill itself in and adhere to that as he grew. From simple observation of both the other sparklings and how he himself processed, he realized that his basic programming seemed to focus on logic and rationality. The other sparklings were content to chase each other around shrieking and squealing, he preferred to download every iota of information off the sparkling databases as he could, running it through his CPU and processing it.

His wings twitched, and he forced them still and back down into their resting position, irritated as his thinking was interrupted. He could not fly, no matter how much he wanted to. He had no turbines, no engines, no alt mode to fly with, only the wings to tell everyone he was a flier sparkling. His only consolation was that the urge was just as strong throughout all the batch's sparklings - several had already required repairs as they had flung themselves off high places, trying to calm the urge.

He was stronger than that. He could overcome the need.

He cycled air through his vents several times, forcing his systems to cool down as he resumed his contemplation. name, yes, he needed a name until he was important enough to earn one.

What was he? Logical, calm, strong-willed. What else was like that? Science and computers and programming, none of which would make any good names. What else, what else?

He looked upwards. To reduce claustrophobia for fliers, the ceilings were clear, allowing them an unrestricted view into the sky above. Apparently Niacon Base did not have such skylights. He would miss the view.

Cybertron's red giant of a sun was setting, already far past the view of the ceiling. The atmosphere of their planet was very thin, good for little else than cooling systems by blowing it through intakes. They didn't need it for any other reason than that. This meant that the stars were always visible through such a thin layer of gas, and even the red giant didn't overpower them. During the day, the sky was a hazy purple, brightening slightly around the sun, and fading away to deep blues and reds towards the horizon. While it set, all color slowly drained from the sky until only a red haze showed the horizon that had blocked out the sun.

Some of the sky above him was still tinted red - the sun was still up, but obviously would be gone soon, and then it would be forced recharge time for the sparklings. He admired the stars, watching them twinkle and grow brighter as the other lightsource faded. He was never online when the moons were overhead his section of Cybertron, but he'd see them one day.

Space. Space spread out forever, cold and unforgiving, and following its own laws. Science and logic ruled it.

He nodded. It would not be his name forever, no, but it would do for now. He would have an identity, one he would make for himself, instead of waiting for other mechs to decide for him. And when he was an adult, and refitted and assigned a name, he would take that name and make it his own.

Space rolled over and prepared for recharge.

* * *

Yes, our independent little sparkling is Starscream. I needed to give him a different name, though, because um yeah. Can you imagine little baby Transformers running around with names like Starscream and Thundercracker? XD;; I couldn't, so I decided they don't get names until they're adults. For now, Starscream thinks of himself as "Space", but he'll go to being Screamer once again when he grows up. :p

Whee.

* * *


	5. Ripple Effect

* * *

**Warnings**: None for this chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I no own Transformers, though I do like occasionally playing God with the toys.

Notes for this round!

**Vericus Prime**: Okay, this was actually mentioned in a review, so I felt I had to address him. Vericus was chosen as Prime during peace-time - and this makes all the difference between him and someone like Optimus. The Matrix chooses some base traits that are always present - good leadership and judgement, honesty, a pure heart (spark), etc. However, depending on the challenges that the Matrix predicts - and predicts is the key word here - the Prime will face, it chooses different qualities. In G1 Optimus, it needed a leader in a war situation, someone who could long-term plan to win the war as well as being able to think quickly in cases battles go haywire, and a healthy amount of courage, determination, and belief that what he was doing was right. However, Vericus was chosen in a time where the Matrix did not predict that this Prime would ever have to face war, so it chose a different set of abilities. If unrest had never happened, Vericus would continue leading well. However, the world has started going to war, and even if he was capable, Cybertron is not a monogamy at this point of time. The Prime can't just run off and do whatever he wants right now, because no one wanted any one mech gaining too much power. However, the power has spread so much that no one can get anything done because no one agrees. Too many cooks in the soup as it were.

So, in short, he isn't a coward, he just realizes his limits. He would not be a good Prime at all if the world erupts into war, and he knows that, so he's doing his best to at least influence things for what he hopes is the best, hence his talk with Starfall. He wants their freedom, so he's doing what he can. So that Vericus, yup. But don't worry about him, he won't be in the story much longer...

**"Where's Optimus/Megatron/insert-Transformer-here!?"**: Hahaha, okay, yes, only OCs and a sparkling-Starscream have starred so far. But all the favorites will show up, I promise - in fact, one shows up this chapter, can you find out who it is? XD However, this story is taking a major turn starting this chapter as well...don't expect the war to play out as canon continuities have it.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_Ripple Effect_

Across the city, in a different building than where one sparkling was deciding a name for itself, another sparkling stood outside, gazing up at the stars.

He was not supposed to be outside, after curfew, but he had seen something just a few orns that had fascinated him, and so he had started this ritual, sneaking out past the watchful caretakers after Cybertron's primary had set, staring up at the starry sky.

The sparkling was about a vorn old, and had already had his protoform refitted twice. Intermediate schooling would begin for him soon.

His ritual was soon rewarded, and he craned his neck backwards as he watched a group of fliers soar overhead. He was not sure who they were, for they were just dark shapes that blotted out the stars, sometimes flying low enough over the city so light reflected up off their undercarriages, revealing glimpses of color.

They had started flying overhead every night, and so the sparkling had started sneaking out to watch them pass.

He loved fliers. Ever since the first one he saw, soaring effortlessly overhead as his batch group were moved into this section of the Academy, he'd always kept his optics trained to seek out others. He envied them - he wanted to lift off the ground and defy gravity just as they, but he was a groundling, a normal worker, one who most likely would do nothing but become a dockworker or something like that.

His other batch-members had higher aspirations. 002, the one he was closest to, for they shared similar tastes, often spoke of joining the military when basic education was finally complete. Most agreed with that.

He was the first of the batch, 001. However, he felt no particular drive for himself. He was envious of those who soared over his head, had a vague impression that a goal he could work towards was reformatting to be a flier, but he knew that would require many of the things called credits that the adult mechs placed solid emphasis on. If he wanted to become a flier, he would have to save them up so he could afford it, and that was far in the future.

For now, he was a simple sparkling, one who did not know what he would become.

However, that was merely an obstacle. He would find his way past it in time, in the calm and steady way he had soon found was at his base programming. He was eager, but he knew to just be patient, and wait. Things would come, and all he had to do was work for them. In his own calm, quiet, and gentle way, he understood this.

Even if he wanted nothing more than for one of the fliers to grab him and take him away, soaring to heights unknown.

Keeping the fantasy locked in his processors, he turned and sneaked back into the Academy dorms, intent on getting back to his room without being caught. Someday, he would soar through the skies, too.

The group of fliers, as unaware of their small witness as he was of their intentions, continued on their flight course.

They were out to change Cybertron in a revolution.

* * *

Dawn came, and with it, a change.

The sparkling who had dubbed himself Space stood on a landing platform, fidgeting in place along with the rest of his batch. Today, they would have their first refit, and would begin training.

Despite himself, he was nervous. At a base level, he knew his programming was not expected of his kind. Just looking around at his fellow batch members proved that. Most had the standard Seeker personality - twitchy, social, argumentive mechs who often got into loud screaming matches for seemingly no reason. Energy flowed through them like a restless stream, processors working at the high speed they all needed for their reflexes and to assess flying situations in instants. However, when the scenery was boring and they had nothing to do but wait, the fast processes seemed to just slow time down, every klik ticking back in agonizing slowness. There had been several physical fights already as sparklings tried to release the energy and nervousness any way they could.

He was no exception - time was dragging slowly for him as well, perhaps even slower than the others, and his fingers were constantly twitching in a need to _move_. However, he was stronger than his short-circuited fellows. He would control himself. He forced himself to stand still and just wait, even if he wanted nothing more to start pacing in a frenetic fury.

Finally, _finally_, after what seemed like vorns but his chronometer told him was only about half a cycle, give or take, a giant transport slowly approached and landed, hatch opening.

Out strode a Seeker, but none like the models Space had ever seen. Mainly white, with green as the side color and accents of black here and there, the Seeker's build was far more light, airy, _curvy_...

Information flowed into his mind as he remembered from his reading. Starfall, Air Commander, and only femme Seeker that had survived past her first refitting. That would explain the different build - most Seekers had lithe, aerodynamic shapes, but she was even more so.

Red optics drifted over the gathered assembly of sparklings lazily, no trace of caring femme in them, only fierce soldier. At length she finally spoke, voice low and rather scratchy for a femme.

"I am Starfall, Air Commander. From now on consider me as Primus, because that's the power I'll have over you. It's time to shape you little scraps into something worthy of the Seeker name, so let's not waste my time. Board the transport in groups of five, arranged by your batch numbers. These will be your groups from your first refit in. If you're with someone you don't like, don't come glitching to me about it, it won't change. Now, move!"

Sparklings scattered in a fast-paced and panicked scrabble, trying to arrange themselves by their batch numbers to follow orders, the femme glaring at them all the while.

Space merely stood back, always towards the end of the line. He was last anyways, so he didn't have to worry about the jostling and bumping around. Finally, after what seemed like a joor, the glitches of his batch-mates got themselves lined up and began filing into the transport.

He merely followed, keeping watch on the line ahead to note how the groups seemed to be working so far. Starfall's eyes examined each sparkling as it passed her, as if evaluating them. When her optics fell on Space, he could have sworn they narrowed, that she studied him longer than the others, but when he dared to cast her a quick glance out of the corner of his optics, she was already moving in behind him to board the ship.

He gave himself a slight shake as he fell into the place arranged for him in his group. There was no reason to assume she had reacted to him, for he was nothing special compared to his peers. She was just waiting for him to hurry up, not paying him any special attention.

His optics narrowed.

At least for now. Soon, he'd earn that special attention for real.

The hatch resealed, the transport's engines thrummed to life under their feet. Their life was beginning.

* * *

Hmm, who are 001 and 002, I wonder? Well, you'll just have to find out later.

Ambitious from the beginning, that's Starscream.

* * *


	6. End Of An Era

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I no own Transformers, though I do like occasionally playing God with the toys.  
**Warnings**: Flagrant laws being broken

Notes for this section.

**Cybertronian idioms**: I try my best to write real robots, and one of my pet peeves is when people write the Transformers using human phrases before they even come to Earth. I slip up too, but I do try to present as convincing a universe as possible. Two examples of idioms I've created so far is "Meeting Primus" and "sparked". "Seeing/Meeting Primus" is a euphemism for death, based on the mythology that Cybertronians are parts of Primus that are birthed into the real world by the Allspark, and return to him by the Matrix with their life memories. Therefore, to meet Primus is to rejoin with him, and therefore die. When a mech states that they saw/almost saw Primus, it's the equivalent to the phrase "life flashed before their eyes". Can also be used as a threat, as telling a mech you're going to send them to see Primus means that you're about to kill them. "Sparked" means several things - the moment a mech is imbued with life and "born" ("I've been that way since the moment I was sparked"), the specifications a mech was created with ("He was sparked to be a flier"), and natural talent ("He's just a sparked trouble-maker!").

**Line of Primes**: Primes are chosen by the Matrix; the current Prime accesses the relic when he feels it is time to choose a second, and the Matrix searches sparks all over Cybertron for one suitable to lead during the current situation of Cybertron. The title of Prime goes with the Matrix - the elder does not necessarily have to die to pass it on, but often does just before the end of his lifespan. I just made up Vericus, and thus have shot the line of Primes to the dust. Nova Prime has mysteriously disappeared in this storyline - I forgot about him when I was writing up the plot, and so...he just doesn't exist. EVAAAR. Consider him replaced by Vericus, or he was Vericus's unnamed predecessor, or something. The rest of the succession lines and such should follow as normal. In times of peace, Primes do not hold much power, but they are Supreme Commanders in times of war. In times of peace, they are simply one member of the High Council, a group of senators. Though the official reason for the existence of the senators is to prevent one mech from becoming a dictator, considering the selection process for a Prime, one wonders why this was ever established...hmmmn.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_End Of An Era_

She had been inside Niacon's medbay, watching the sparklings file into separate chambers to be refitted, when the notice had come.

The flight to the Air Base had been quiet. Starfall's glaring presence more than enough to quell even the most mischievous of sparks. They had filed off the transport and into the halls, optics staring up at the tall ceilings in amazement. Even without skylights, the entire building felt far more open and roomier than Vector Sigma. Hushed but excited clicking had passed between them all as they made their way to the medbay for their first refit.

Slight armor and a slightly bigger frame was all they were getting today - enough to take the small hits of basic training without snapping anything important. Thrusters wouldn't come until the second refit, and Starfall was loathe for that day to come. That's when the glitches would start appearing.

She frowned when the notice buzzed on her communications line. A summoning to the High Council? What had gone wrong now?

She swept her optics over the group of sparklings - several were done already, but at the rate it took, refitting the group would take the entire orn. Well, she could afford to leave them for now; the medbay nurses held a reputation for being stricter than even their commander.

Nodding to one of said nurses, she stepped outside the medbay and leaped into the air, quickly transforming into her standard tetrajet alt-mode, the standard of all Seekers. She flew through and out of the base, soaring towards the High Towers.

Something important had to have happened, if the lazy senators were summoning the ornery Air Commander to their presence.

* * *

"What!? How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I would never order any of my Seekers to attack Cybertron itself!"

Vericus Prime resisted the urge to offline his optics and bang his head against the nearest hard surface. This meeting was going nowhere fast. He held up a green hand to forestall the burst of arguing the irate Seeker was sure to start.

"We are not accusing you of ordering anything, Commander Starfall. However, the sabotage attack on one of Iacon's refineries last night was accomplished by fliers, due to how they got in and out. The security footage was destroyed, so we do not have any leads, but only someone with the ability to fly could have done so. You are Air Commander, all fliers are registered with Niacon Base. We would just like to know if any of those under your active command were absent last night."

Starfall gave the rest of the senators a sulky glare, but turned towards Vericus. "All fliers are registered with us, yes, but we do not record flight plans of civilians. It was deemed 'too invasive' to record each and every Cybertronian in the air, so now we only record those re-entering the atmosphere and all transports and ships that are not someone transformed. There is no one in my memory who left the base last night, unless the base's own security feeds and logs were tampered with. If it was a group of Seekers, it was a group who do not live on Niacon, and none such currently dwell in Iacon. Vos and Kaon have the only other civilian populations of Seekers that I am aware of, and they are very small ones at that."

"I see..." Vericus leaned back in his seat, frowning as he drummed his fingers on the surface in front of him. "We will have Chief Security Officer Senselock examine Niacon's database for evidence of any tampering, to see if anyone on-base was responsible." The orange and yellow mech, who had been standing behind Vericus, nodded slightly. Vericus leaned forward again.

"For now, Starfall, please reinstate Niacon's recording of all fliers. Since every being with the ability to fly is registered with the base, it should be able to monitor all flight patterns."

The senators murmured and shifted, and Starfall straightened up, looking apprehensive. "Sir...are you sure? It will record all flights longer than a klik...all fliers will find it greatly obtrusive. The record of Niacon Base's signal will be logged into their database..."

"Maybe it will keep all of you from just flitting around whenever you please!" Senator Zaron sneered as he leaned forward. The senator's long-standing bias against fliers was well-known, and Starfall's wings hitched up automatically in anger, though she tried to keep her face neutral.

Feeling the urge to inflict self-harm upon his own cranial unit again, Vericus raised his hand again. "I realize it is intrusive, and I apologize in advance to all who feel their freedom has been encroached upon. However, knowing that we're monitoring them well, hopefully, restrict their movements. No one will dare fly in Iacon with impure intentions."

"It will not stop them, if they're determined." Murmured Senator Dias, optics shuttered as she looked down. "Even fliers can walk if need be, and I doubt the rebels are composed of only those with wings. But it will prevent them from crossing Cybertron quickly and without reason."

And so we start stripping away liberties in the name of protecting them... Vericus thought dryly, before he stood up. "Until we know the identities of these outlaws, there is little we can do aside from increase security. Commander Starfall, please implement the recordings when you have a chance this orn. You may return to your duties."

The slim Seeker dropped her head and murmured an agreement, shooting dark glares at Zaron, who returned them eagerly as she walked out. The Council itself dispersed, the senators returning to their own duties in hopes of preventing what they could.

Vericus stood himself, watching as the rest of the Council filed out of the meeting room. When the last of them had finally left, he turned to the one mech remaining besides himself.

"Senselock, please come with me. I have something to discuss with you."

The security officer blinked his optics, straightening up. "Of course, sir."

They exited through the back door, an exit reserved solely for the Prime and led to his private office at the top of the High Tower. They stepped into the lift, both silent as they ascended to the top. Only when they were securely in his office did Vericus break it.

"Senselock...you are aware of many things, being the Chief Security Officer of Cybertron...do you have any ideas why any citizens would be driven to such actions?"

Senselock tilted his head. "I...am aware that Cybertron is experiencing unrest, sir. It grows stronger every orn, and an energy crisis is looming. In fact, it is already apparent in areas too poor to afford it. The fliers are probably from such a region...they attacked the refinery to steal, not to destroy."

"Too true." Vericus lowered himself into the chair, placing his hands on the desk that had served every Prime faithfully ever since it was built. "Civil war is looming on the horizon...perhaps already started. Cybertron will not be the same after this moment."

The orange mech looked down, and Vericus watched him for a moment. Senselock had a good head on his shoulders, and was similar to Vericus in that he preferred peace to war. Diplomacy was his strength, but Senselock possessed a skill Vericus didn't, in that he could fight when needed. The mech was a good strategist. Now, all Vericus could do was pray that the Matrix, too, had seen the coming war and had chosen the correct mech for the job.

"Senselock, I brought you here for a reason other than the terrorist raid." The security officer looked back up, confusion written all over his faceplates. Vericus watched him carefully.

"I am old, too old and too peaceful to lead our race through a war. A younger Prime is needed, someone who is able to handle what is to come better than I. It feels like a coward's way out, but I know...that all I would cause is an extinction of our rac eis I attempted to lead during such a crisis. So I searched the Matrix for my Second, and it has found one."

"Sir...?" Senselock queried, and Vericus prayed to Primus that one day, this honest mech would forgive him for what he was about to do.

"The one the Matrix chose, Senselock, was you."

* * *

Dun dun dun!! Anyone who knows Transformers continuity will know what Senselock's Prime name is...

* * *


	7. Glimpse Of The Future

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I no own Transformers, though I do like occasionally playing God with the toys.  
**Warnings**: None.

Notes for this chapter:

**More time units, yay!**: Alright, so when I was writing up the time measurement chart back in chapter 2 or whatever, I apparently had a brain fart and said a vorn was 20 stellar cycles. Now, it could be, but that would through my measurements of just how many Cybertronian days are in Cybertron's year off, because I was operating, for whatever reasons, on the thought that a vorn was 20 Earth years. No, I don't know either. Anyways, I am featured with a choice - keep the amount of days in a stellar cycle, and just do the math for the vorn, which puts a vorn at roughly 86 Cybertronian years...or lengthen the years so that it's not such a random number.

I decided to go with lengthening the year, as considering the size of Cybertron's sun, shorter years would mean it was as close if not closer to its sun as Earth is to its own, which would be...awkward, considering both Cybertron's size and the size of its primary.

So now, Cybertron has a year equal to 700 orns (equal to roughly 605 Earth days, or a year and two-thirds or something like that.) And their vorn is composed of 50 stellar cycles, equaling to 83 Earth years. Because of the retarded division, they have a Earth-like leap year every five stellar cycles and they get an extra orn.

So, shorter days, but longer years. Everybody up with that? On to the story!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

_Glimpse Of The Future_

It took the entire orn to refit everyone, and Cybertron's primary was already sinking below the horizon before Space stepped out of the refit room, flexing his new fingers experimentally.

Starfall had left sometime near the beginning, but had soon returned, looking even more harsh than usual. She had merely glared at them all, watching as sparkling stepped out with new armor and slightly increased size.

Still no colors, no official name. No identity until the adult refit. Half a vorn seemed like an eternity away.

Starfall had then taken them all to the barracks, showing them the rooms they would be sharing for the rest of their training until they were proper adults. Space was stuck with the same five sparklings now, and he hoped they were the more tolerable of the lot. They hadn't said much, yet.

After they'd been assigned rooms, Starfall had left. Enforced recharge time was in half a cycle, but Space felt full of energy, and had no desire to recharge just yet. He stepped up hesitantly to the door, looking behind him for a moment. His roommates seemed oblivious, so he palmed the sensor to the right of the door, and felt relief when it slid open noiselessly. He could wander around for a bit before they came to lock them in their quarters.

Space stepped out into the hall, ignoring the door sliding shut automatically behind him. After scanning the hallway with his young optics for a moment, he chose a direction and began wandering that way, making sure to keep track of where he was going.

His room was rather close to the start of the barracks, so soon he was past all the closed doors and abruptly the hallway just seemed to get a lot bigger. The barracks had been part of the old groundling base that had been renovated to become Niacon, and so they were small and closed-off. However, everything else was built towards fliers, and Space immediately felt better in this huge space.

He took small, light steps, trying to be as quiet as possible as he headed down the hall - if he was noisy, he would disturb someone, and he still wasn't quite sure if they were allowed to explore yet. Light spilled from an open doorway on the left, and he decided to take his chances. He poked his head inside.

Only one mech was inside - a youngling, who looked to be i his second refit. He was absorbed in a large vidscreen, which showed a holo of some sort of...entertainment vid, it looked like. Space craned his head backwards to look for the room's designation, and clicked when he found it. Recreation room. So even the sparklings got their own.

Deciding the one youngling wasn't much of a threat, Space hesitantly stepped into the room, walking around the chairs and reclining booths scattered over the room. He stepped up next to the other, just watching him for a moment, before turning his attention to the vid.

It seemed to involve a lot of stuff blowing up. Mindless entertainment. Space would rather read, but to each his own.

The youngling turned his head at that moment, and was obviously startled at the appearance of the sparkling, as he gave a startled cry and nearly fell off his chair. Space merely shuttered his optics up at him. After a klik, the other seemed to regain his composure, righting himself and looking down at Space critically and a little warily.

"You're a new one. What're doing outside your quarters? None of the little ones ever come out the first orn."

Nothing about being forbidden, just that no one was expected sparklings to be comfortable enough to roam around. Interesting. He tilted his head. "I was bored, so I left."

"Quarters are slagging boring, you've got that right." The youngling shrugged. "Well, we've still got a little time left...wanna watch the vid with me?"

"I was watching, you were the one who stopped."

The other blinked at that, before a smirk crossed his faceplates and he seemed to relax, tension and wariness fading away. "Bold little glitch. The instructors won't like that. Your designation number is fifty?"

"I was merely stating a fact." Space blinked at the number - he'd nearly forgotten it. He hesitated before replying. This youngling seemed nice enough, so maybe he wouldn't think Space was strange. "I don't like the number. My name is Space."

A browplate raised. "They don't give out names to younglings, you can't have a name yet."

Space held his ground, looking up at the slightly larger one - he glanced at one of his wings. Twenty-seven was written there. "I made it up myself. I don't like being a number."

"Made it up?" The other tilted his head, as if listening to something only he could hear. "That's...pretty good, actually. I don't like the numbers either, but I never bothered thinking about it..."

He shrugged. "I do a lot of thinking."

"You're a strange one." The youngling chuckled, taking the bite out of his words as he patted Space on the head. "Slag, maybe I'll think one up for myself, though I'm not very good at being creative like that. Anyways, it's almost time, and the instructors are gonna come around soon to throw us all back into our rooms, so let's go back, okay?"

Space nodded, having nothing better to do. He had a long time to explore this place fully, and there was always the next orn. "Okay."

"Off we go, then."

* * *

Short chapter, but eh. Taking votes now as to who you guys think the youngling is. Yes, he's a canon character.

There will be a time-skip of a fair margin for the next chapter! Things will happen!

* * *


End file.
